


robes to fill

by SidewaysClarinet



Series: Writer-Bot Shenanigans [3]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: A cute lil fic between father and son!, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Past VS Future, Ryuji becomes the next head priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidewaysClarinet/pseuds/SidewaysClarinet
Summary: The title of Head Priest has always been one that Ryuji has had mixed feelings on--nervousness, excitement, fear. Thankfully, he always has his father to rely on when insecurities run high.
Relationships: Suguro "Bon" Ryuuji & Suguro Tatsuma
Series: Writer-Bot Shenanigans [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027450
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	robes to fill

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I've written anything with Tatsuma, much less with Tatsuma and Ryuji, so I hope you all enjoy!

Suguro Ryuji is nine years old when he climbs up over the railing of the temple, trying his hardest to sneak up to the window without being caught. It was a pain trying to free himself from his mother, Renzou, and Konekomaru, but he’s finally succeeded and he’s not going to throw away his sorely earned chance by being too noisy!

He pads across the wood on socked feet, keeping his head low as he makes his way towards the windowsill. It’s cracked open just a bit to allow the soft scent of smoke to drift out, and he can hear the soft murmur of his father chanting sutras to the flame crackling in the middle of the temple. Ryuji leans up on his tip-toes to peer in and sees Tatsuma sitting cross legged on the wood, his hands clasped together.

Like always, the gentle, constant drone of his father’s chanting soothes the headache that had started to pulse away between his ears just earlier that day, and it quiets the static of anxiety that had struck up after the second day of Tatsuma’s absence had begun.

Ryuji crosses his arms up on top of the windowsill and leans his chin against the back of his hands, his eyelids drifting closed as he watches. The fire curls and snaps in that odd way it always does, not quite human, but Tatsuma doesn’t open his eyes nor does he slow his speaking at its temper. He continues on as if he were simply reading a book before a fireplace on a cold day, with a soft smile on his face and gentle features.

Ryuji has always liked sneaking in to listen to his father chant. Sometimes Tatsuma catches him, and sometimes he’s able to sit through the entire ceremony—it always seems to depend on the wickedness of the fire that day. Today, however, it’s not nearly as wild as it might be, so he lets himself start to doze. The weather outside is nice, after all, and perfect for napping.

“...Tatsuma-san,” a voice says, one that he doesn’t recognize. “Your son.”

Oops.

Ryuji freezes in place, feels that familiar burn of embarrassment turn his cheeks to scarlet. He knows he’s caught and there’s no point in running away, so he stays in place until he hears the sound of footsteps. Tatsuma pokes his head out the window, looking curiously at the trees before his eyes finally fall on Ryuji.

“Ah, Ryuji-kun!” he says, smiling widely. He must not be too upset, then. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Uh…” Ryuji tucks his hands behind his back, looks anywhere but the warmth of Tatsuma’s eyes. “Yeah. Sorry, dad.”

When he glances back up at his father, Tatsuma’s smile has only softened, and he leans against the windowsill. “You know, you could always ask to tag along, kiddo.”

“Yeah, but then you’ll say no!” Ryuji points out, pouting.

“Sometimes, yes,” Tatsuma concedes, chuckling. “But you’ll never know until you ask.”

Ryuji gives a little huff, digging his feet into the wood of the floor. His father waits patiently for him to speak up again, eyebrows raised and smile expectant. “...can I listen today?”

Tatsuma laughs, and he’s sure that that must mean no. But his father leans down and picks Ryuji up about the waist, hauling him up gently through the window. Ryuji grips Tatsuma’s robes tightly, feeling excitement well up as he’s carried back over to Tatsuma’s pillow by the fire.

He settles down eagerly into Tatsuma’s lap as his father sits down, tucking Ryuji between his legs and out of the way. The fire has begun to crackle a bit, now, and it almost looks like a particularly disgruntled face glares over at him. But Ryuji blinks, and the face is gone, and Tatsuma has his hands clasped again.

Before Tatsuma begins the chant again, a sudden question occurs to him. “Dad?”

“Yes, Ryuji-kun?”

“Am I gonna hafta know these chants?” he asks, glancing up at his father. 

Something seems to flash across Tatsuma’s expression, but it disappears quickly, and he reaches a hand down to ruffle Ryuji’s hair affectionately. “Maybe someday! You’ll be the temple’s next head priest, after all, you’ll need to know all our ins and outs.”

“Right.”

Ryuji doesn’t say anything else, and so Tatsuma picks the chant up again. He leans up against his father’s chest, enjoying the feeling of Tatsuma’s deep voice rumbling in his chest and up against Ryuji’s ears. The words are constant, steady, and even, as they always are when Tatsuma chants them. 

He knows it’s just because he’s young, but sometimes it embarrasses him how different his voice is from Tatsuma’s. Ryuji’s voice is high and squeaky, and cracks in all the places it shouldn’t. He doesn’t sound dependable and authoritative like his father—he sounds like a kid trying to imitate Tatsuma. Which is exactly what he is, isn’t it?

Ryuji looks at the delicately woven threads of Tatsuma’s robes, and tries to imagine himself in those same robes. He knows he’ll be wearing them one day, when he takes over for his father, but it seems like such a far away future that it’s hard for him to see. Will the temple still be around, when he comes of age? Will they have merged completely with True Cross by then? 

Will there even be a head priest position for him to fill, at that point?

As much as he loves his father, he knows there’s no point in confessing this all to him. He knows his worries and anxieties will be brushed off, or chuckled at, and so he tries to push them away. Tatsuma is finally letting him listen in, after all, and he doesn’t want to ruin this.

After a few minutes, he begins to fall asleep, with sutras and robes and ceremonies haunting his dreams.

  
  
  


Suguro Ryuji is twenty-one years old when he looks into a full body mirror, anxiously picking at the robes draped over his chest and shoulders. They’re the same robes that the head priests have worn for their appointment for decades down the line—hundreds of years, even. Their color is faded but still brilliantly yellow and red, and they’re heavy in weight and expectations.

“Ryuji-kun, stop fussing with your robes,” his mother chastises him. Torako’s eyes are glistening with pride and tears, but she holds it together long enough to give him a stern look as she fixes the scarves that he’d disrupted. “We just spent hours putting you together!”

“I know,” he sighs, trying to keep his hands pinned down to his sides. “It’s just… do they look okay?”

“Okay? They look incredible, honey,” she says, frowning. “You suit them far more than your father did.”

At that, he snorts. “Oh c’mon, I’m sure he ain’t look that bad.”

“He did!” she insists, but her frown is lifting little by little. “He was late to his ceremony, and didn’t even have the decency to trim that horrible mustache of his. His father was so embarrassed he looked like he might just keel over.”

“It wasn’t that bad, dear,” Tatsuma protests, as he joins them in the room. He gives Ryuji a greeting smile, leaning heavily on his cane as he stands by Torako’s side. Despite her words, she doesn’t hesitate to reach a hand out to steady him, drawing tatsuma close to herself. “He only would’ve cried, at the worst.”

“Well, either one would have been horrible for your appointment,” she says, holding a handkerchief to her mouth. “Our boy won’t be like that.”

Tatsuma looks up at Ryuji, and his eyes are so proud and overjoyed that it steals his breath for a second. “No, he certainly won’t.”

When Ryuji is finally able to find his words again, he lets out a sheepish sort of chuckle, looking back at the mirror. “The day ain’t over yet.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. You’re worse than your mother,” Tatsuma chides, reaching a hand out to clasp his shoulder. “There’s not a soul alive more suited to take over the Myo-Dha.”

“Okay, you’re just messin’ with me now.” Ryuji turns a critical eye down his appearance, and reaches a hand up to pick at a strand of his hair that hangs just a bit lower than the rest. He’d gotten a haircut just the day before, and if he wasn’t even able to make sure that had been done properly, how could he make sure an entire temple was run properly? “This is gonna be a disaster.”

Surprisingly, the reprimand doesn’t come as soon as he gets his words out. Instead, he sees Tatsuma pat Torako’s hand out of the corner of his eye, before he murmurs something to his mother. She hesitates a second, but reluctantly backs out of the room. This leaves him alone with Tatsuma, who reaches over to grasp his shoulders.

“You know, the cruel will latch on to your insecurity in a heartbeat,” Tatsuma tells him, fighting down a smile.

“Right,” Ryuji says, quiet. Embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Tatsuma squeezes his shoulders, turning them back towards the mirror. “Just have confidence in yourself, Ryuji-kun, and what all you’ve accomplished. You’ve done more to unite the temple with itself and True Cross than any head priest has ever done before—you deserve more than this title, you know.”

Ryuji flushes a bit. “You’re exaggeratin’.”

“I’m not,” Tatsuma counters, and it’s firm. “You’re an incredible young man. I know it, your mother knows it, and the temple knows it. I suppose this is just one thing you’re falling behind on, then?”

“Maybe,” Ryuji laughs. The praise has him glowing a bit, though he’d never say it out loud. “I’m just nervous, is all.”

Tatsuma releases his shoulders, giving him a knowing grin. “We all are, kiddo. It’s normal.”

There’s the sound of footsteps, and then Uwabami appears in the doorway. He spares a moment for a prideful grin as he sees Ryuji, but tempers it long enough to deliver his message. “Tatsuma-sama, Ryuji-kun, we’re ready for you.”

It’s time, then. Nervousness strikes him, sharp and electric, but then he feels something against his hand. He glances down, and it’s his father’s fingers, turning around to grasp his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. Ryuji smiles and squeezes his father’s hand back, holding onto the affection for just a few seconds as Uwabami patiently waits for them.

But eventually, Tatsuma releases him, and it really is time to go. He takes a deep breath and steps out of the room, trying to put on a brave face for his temple. 

It’s comforting to know that his father is at his back, and somehow, he knows deep down that no matter what happens, he can always depend on Tatsuma to be there.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticisms are always appreciated!


End file.
